A War on All Fronts
by WordsFromMike
Summary: Harry Potter must learn to pick his battles in a world of political manoeuvring, intense surgical strikes against the Wizarding world and treachery behind every smile. To be able to fight for tomorrow, you have to survive today.


A/N::

Firstly:: my apologies to anyone who has already read this chapter. I posted it and then decided to combine my first two chapters, hopefully making it a better read. If you saw this before the update, please just skip to the first scene break and continue on!

Secondly:: Clearly I don't own any of this, just playing with it a little.

Enjoy!

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A War On All Fronts

Chapter 1: A Call To Arms

Heavy footsteps echoed across the grey stones of Hogwarts, seemingly reverberating across her stonewalls and into the empty darkness that lay beyond. The darkness was oppressive, as was the sharp chill in the air. The soft sounds of rain hitting the windows seemed to keep a beat for the heavy footsteps.

What had once been a school filled with budding witches and wizards now felt as bleak as a morgue. The children were still in some distant corners of the castle, but their joyous voice could not be heard and the headmaster had to wonder if he would ever hear the sound of a truly carefree child again. Albus Dumbledore quickly strode through the school he thought of as home, discarding thoughts of future woes to concentrate on what lay before him, increasing his pace in the hopes of correct a mistake before it was too late.

After so many years within the school, being tied so closely to the wards he was able to pick up subtle changes and warning signs. He could feel the wards now, drabbed across his shoulders; a heavy burden both physically and mentally.

The cold, the unnatural darkness and the sensation at the back of his mind that something was not quite right could only mean one thing.

There was a dementor in his school.

He had left Minerva with strict order to stand guard over their prisoner, and as much as he trusted her he couldn't stop the feeling of dread and doubt building in his stomach.

Hogwarts was a mystery to those that did not know her secrets, and could seriously impede the ignorant. Luckily, Albus Dumbledore was not ignorant. Instead staircases moved to accommodate him, he passed through secret passage that no student had seen in decades and where once trick steps stood only solid stone before him.

It wasn't a short walk from the infirmary to the Defense against the Dark arts classrooms, but Dumbledore was making better time than any student.

At last he rounded a corner, and caught sight of his destination. His journey was almost at an end, one more corridor. Hope filled his chest, despite the chill in the air. He might just be in time. As he started down the corridor, he felt the atmosphere change, the whole world seemed to take pause for just a second, taking a breathe. The calm before the storm.

Increasing his pace Dumbledore strode towards the door that marked his destination, drawing his wand as he did so. With only a few paces left to go, the wand was given a sudden and sharp flick, the movement accompanied by the sound of a gunshot echoing off the frost covered walls nearest the door.

The door inexplicably flew off its hinges, the debris smoldering to ash before they hit the floor. The small gust of heat swiftly being extinguished by the chill in the night air.

It only took a few seconds to fully evaluate the room and its inhabitants. Minerva looking furious, with a panicked look in her eyes. Two aurors stationed in the middle of the room, backs against the stone already going for their wands, not that it would help them.

Cornelius Fudge stood in the middle of the room. Having dropped his Bowler hat at the disturbance, it was doing short circles on its brim as it rolled on the floor before coming to rest.

All this was secondary; all that mattered was the dark cloaked menace at the far end of the room, radiating a sickening, malevolent aura. A ring of frost running across the stone flooring directly under where the creature floated, slowly spreading out further into the room in a macabre spiderweb of cracks. Ghastly hands extended to remove the hood of its dark oppressing cloak to administer a punishment that none deserved.

Two feet could be seen poking out from the side of the dementor, the only part of its prey that could be seen around its heavy form. The sound of hoarse, pleading whispers traveled on the air reaching Dumbledore ears, spurring him into action.

Brandishing his wand in a wide outward arc across his body, a white mist forming at its tip. Reaching the crescendo of the arc the mist condensed into a shape and flew towards the dementor, moving too quickly for anyone in the room to make out it's shape, leaving behind only coloured spots in the vision of those who had seen it.

The dementor screeched the second the patronus made contact, rattling the windows in their frames. The frost on the walls and floor instantly receding back towards its source. In the blink of an eye the dementor was lifted off its suffering prey and thrust forward towards one of the windows where it was pushed through the glass and into the night, swiftly followed by Dumbledore patronus.

The noise of the smashing window, and the droplets of rainwater carried on the wind now rushing through the room seemed to break the occupants out of their stupor.

Hearing many raised voices being aimed in his direction, Dumbledore took and a deep breath, and let his senses flow out when he exhaled, letting his awareness drift across the wards. Ensuring the dementor was truly gone, and not lingering in Hogwarts, hoping for an easy meal.

Only once Dumbledore was confident in the safety of his students did he pay attention to his surrounding, and the petulant voice of the minister of magic shouting about criminal charges and the other such consequences of Dumbledore's actions.

"Enough." Dumbledore said, with a sense of power that only age and strength can provide.

Although not said loudly the room was immediately quiet. Shooting a glace toward Minerva to ensure she was alright, Dumbledore strode towards the body on the floor.

"You had no right to do this Cornelius" said Dumbledore as he reached down to check the pulse of pale Barty Crouch Jr. Lifting his closed eyelids to check his pupils, ensuring that the dementor hadn't claimed its prize.

"No right! Now you listen here Albus…" The minister paused to draw a breath, undoubtedly ready to berate Dumbledore who was still focused on Crouch Jr.

Rising from the prone figure, Dumbledore turned to address the minister, "You enter my school, at my invitation and blessing. However I do not recall giving permission for you to bring that creature near my students or my staff." Injected Dumbledore sharply, cutting of the minister before he could get going.

"Further more Cornelius, if you had succeeded in your mission to completely destroy what remains of Crouch, you would have had much to answer for. As it is, you didn't succeed and there is still hope."

Fudge seemed to be frozen in place, mouth hanging open and with wide eyes. By the time he had composed himself and was ready to reply, another voice spoke up.

"Forgive me Albus, the minister and his..._escorts_ burst in and started questioning Crouch. Before I had a chance to fully voice my dissatisfaction the order had been given for the dementors kiss and my complaints were ignored" Minerva McGonagall was looking directly at the minister as she said this, clearly more concerned about being ignored than she was about seeming apologetic.

"Do not worry Minerva, the fault is mine for not expecting this. What interests me more…" Dumbledore said, turning to lock eyes with the minister, "is that the minister ordered the kiss after he had questioned Crouch. Is this true Cornelius?"

Fudges mouth snapped closed with an audible click, his eyes turned hard as he puffed his chest out, undoubtedly thinking he looked ministerial.

"That man is clearly delusional from over exposure to the dementors, so I care not a whit what cock-and-bull stories he comes up with, all that I care about is that he is a charged criminal that escaped custody. The punishments, as I'm sure you are aware is the dementor's kiss. It is you that is at fault here Dumbledore; obstructing justice is what you are doing. Now if you excuse me, I'll be taking the prisoner back to the ministry to receive his due"

With that Fudge nodded to his Auror escort, who walked over to the still form of Crouch. With a flick of one of the Auror's wands Crouch was bound at his hand at feet, although still unconscious from the dementor, it was clear that no chances were being taken. In short order the prisoner was floating about the floor and being led across the room towards its exit.

"I said enough, Cornelius." Stopping the minister and his Auror escorts where they stood, "That man is not delusional, and neither was he fabricating a story for you. " Dumbledore reached into his robes and withdrew an old golden pocket watch, "Indeed, when you spoke to him he was still under the effect of Veritaserum. The tale he told can be corroborated. You need to accept the truth of the situation and act accordingly"

The Aurors appeared torn, unsure if they should be leaving for the ministry or not. Their prisoner remained still, floating above the floor. Together they looked towards the minister for direction.

"I won't believe it Dumbledore! I've allowed you a free fun of this school during my tenure as minister and this is how you repay me?" snapped Fudge, spittle flying from his lips as a single bead of sweat rolled down his face.

"This is just some story that you and that Potter boy have come up with, so don't talk to me about corroborated! I never imagined you to be the backstabbing sort but I see it all now, no longer content with Hogwarts you've set your sights on the ministry. On my ministry!"

Ignoring the sharp intake of breath and the shocked, 'How dare you!" from Minerva, Dumbledore allowed himself a small chuckle at the ministers expense, holding his hand up to stop the minister tirade before he really got started. He'd always been aware that Fudge was insecure in his position but he didn't realize he was scared of being usurped.

"Minister, I have offered you advice for years and never have I tricked you, or given you false counsel. I have been offered the ministry before, and I have refused. I have no interest in it nor the desire for the position you currently hold." Replied Dumbledore, his voice became smoother, and softer and he continued, "No minister I don't want to destroy your position, but I believe we can strengthen it. If we work together now, with the information we have gained this evening I believe we can stop the threat to our world before it becomes too great to handle, it will not be easy but it is possible."

Fudge shot him a bewildered look, clearly not expecting Dumbledore to say that.

Taking Fudge's silence as permission to carry on, Dumbledore gave the minister a pointed look, "The evils in this world would prefer us to separate, for good men to fight amongst themselves so that the dark can cast its long shadows unchecked. This can not be allowed to happen"

Taking several steps forward, Dumbledore entered the ministers personal space, looking him directly in the eye, "It is indeed true that the Dark Lord has returned, and with him the dark with grow. Tell me now Cornelius Fudge, do you want to be remembered as the incompetent minister who allowed Voldemort to slaughter unchecked and grow in strength whilst the ministry sat idly by, or do you want to be remembered as the minister who took a stand, who is an example of what a leader should be, who will be hailed as a shining light in the darkest of times"

Apart from the small gasp that escaped the minister lips at the mention of Voldemort, he'd remained still and stationary. The same couldn't be said for the Aurora who had jumped at the confirmation of the dark lords return, and broken the spell levitating Crouch Jr in the air. He dropped to the floor with a thud, although no one in the room seemed too interested in his welfare, he would undoubtedly have a few move bruises to aid to this evening collection when he woke.

The room seemed to pause and look towards the minister as one, awaiting his reacting to Dumbledore's words. Taking a step backwards Fudge attempted to compose himself, "The public…they'll never…thrown out of office…no support for this…" Fudge stuttered along, until he finally stopped and took a deep breath before continuing in a more confident manner, 'The people will never support this Dumbledore, let alone the Wizengamot. They'll have me begging on the streets before either of us could blink, even if I did believe you it'd be political suicide to say anything, and that helps no one. The people will not listen to what they don't want to hear; I would have expected you to understand that about politics Albus'

Dumbledore held back a frown. There were few things worse in his opinion than well an elected politician forgetting they severed the people, and not themselves. Although he couldn't remember a time when Cornelius Fudge was ever a people's champion, so this selfish attitude shouldn't come as a surprise, even if it was rearing its ugly head at the worst of moments.

Dumbledore took another step towards Fudge, not letting him avoid the issue by stepping away from it, and ran a hand down his long white beard, straightening his back so he was at his full height, 'Minister, we have the evidence to prove the dark lords return, that is all that will be needed. I believe together great things can be achieved, deny the truth and when Voldemort does surface, the blame will be at your feet. You are free to leave here and deny the truth however I will not hide from the unpleasantness of the situation, and it will be your word against mine. I'm not sure how well you would fare in that situation."

Dumbledore paused to inspect the rapidly coloring face of the minister before carrying on, letting his eyes harden and fill with hints of power, whilst ignoring the dangerous red spots forming on the ministers cheeks, "Not only will I fight you in the Wizengamot, but I'll fight you in the press, here and across the continent. I also feel I should inform you that Barty Crouch Jr will not be leaving Hogwarts with you if you choice to ignore the truths laid out before you. He will stay here under my protection until he can be fully questioned. Publicly questioned. It would take the whole force of the ministry to make me surrender him, and even if you managed to muster that kind of support, I'm still not sure how confident I would be of your chances of success."

Letting his voice drop an octave, and staring at the minister trying to convey the seriousness of his words by expression alone, Dumbledore tried one last time to coax a workable outcome out of this mess, "It would pain me to fight you minister, but there is nothing I wouldn't do to stop the atrocities of the last war happening again. I would gladly sacrificed my own position, so I assure you destroying yours for the greater good wouldn't prevent me from sleeping at night. I implore you Cornelius, grasp my hand in friendship and I shall support you and counsel you until this threat has passed"

With that said, Albus Dumbledore extended his hand towards the minister.

The red spots on Fudge's checks had blossomed across his whole face, and then suddenly faded to nothing, seeming to take any colour the minister normally had with them, leaving behind a pale and somewhat deflated and defeated looking man, staring at the floor, "Fine. You win Dumbledore. You can keep Crouch whilst I go to the ministry and organize a full trail. I only ask that you keep this quiet until I inform the public, this is going to be a public relations disaster…"

Lifting his head up, Fudge sneered at the offered hand, instead of grasping it he ignored the offer and instead started directly into Dumbledore's eyes, a frown marring his forehead, "and if it is cooperation you want, Dumbledore, it would be wise for you to keep your threats to yourself. I'm still the minister; you would do well not to forget that. I am not your puppet, and the choices I make are my own. I have not been idle during my time in office, I assure you I have more friends and allies than you would expect"

With that Cornelius Fudge spun on his heels, giving one last glace towards the haphazardly dropped form of Crouch before making his way towards the exit of the room, walking through the ashes that was once the door as he went.

His Auror guard snapping out their stupor as he passed them, rushing to catch up with their boss.

Dumbledore let out a long sigh, turning to his deputy who was observing him with an expression of surprise and worry, 'Would you really have gone to war with the ministry over this Albus? Is it wise to antagonize the minister like that"? The word minister was spat from her mouth like a curse.

"Forgive me Minerva, for leaving you alone to guard Crouch. I should have anticipated Cornelius would attempt something of this nature. He was always one to take the easy road in times of strife."

Dumbledore then turned and started to walk out of the room following in Fudge's footsteps. Seemingly ignoring his old friends concerns, until he walked beneath the doorframe and turned his head back to face McGonagall, his eyes hard and devoid of any light "Fudge is a man who cares little for anything other than himself, and it is of vital importance that the ministry are fully aware of the threat we all face, as well as being prepared to meet it. I would have fought Cornelius, and the Wizengamot day and night had he refused me. However I believe he admires his office and its privileges too much to risk losing them. I believe he knew the rise of the Dark Lord was now inevitable, he just needed a sharp reminder of what ignoring it could do to his career." His eyes softened then, "Never forget that it is important to do what is right, instead of what is easy." Dumbledore paused then, with a flick of his wand the glass returned to the window frame and there was once a door sitting open in the doorframe.

Without turning around, he addressed deputy once more, "Severus will be here shortly to help escort out new guest to the dungeons, once that is done I would be grateful if you could both report to me in my office."

And with that Dumbledore, walked down the darkened corridor flicking his wand to reignite the torches that had been snuffed out by the dementors presence.

Within a minute his footsteps could no longer be heard from the office of the former Defense of the Dark arts professor. The only sound disturbing the night was Minerva breathing whilst she waited for Severus Snape. Looking down upon their unconscious hard won captive, she flung a stunning spell at him, ensuring her wait would be a peaceful one, even if internally her thoughts were in turmoil over what horrors tomorrow, and the second rise of Voldemort would bring.

**ˆ˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜ˆ**

It had only been two minutes since Albus Dumbledore had leaped from his seat and hurried out of the infirmary without so much as a word said. He shouldn't be annoyed; it wasn't like he was surprised to be ignored.

Harry Potter lay in a hospital bed within the infirmary. The headmaster had forbid nurse from supplying him with a sleeping draught until he had been question fully. Having a brief look through the crack in the curtains surrounding his hospital bed Harry attempted to spot nurse and ask for the potion. Normally Harry wouldn't have a problem with yelling for Madame Pomfrey, but his throat was sore from the screams that ripped out of it during the fight at the graveyard, and his legs felt too weak to wonder around looking for her.

If Dumbledore was just going to run off and not say a word Harry certainly wasn't going to wait around in pain until he got back, hell, for all Harry knew he wouldn't be getting back.

Madame Pomfrey wasn't in sight though; although the privacy curtain obscured most of the view of the hospital wing he did see several things in the gaps of his curtain. The stark nature of the hospital wing always made Harry uneasy, the white walls, white ceiling. White beds and white hospital gowns. Anything that wasn't white carried the dull sheen of metal. It was clinical to the extreme. Which of course, was hardly unexpected but to Harry Potter it was too clinical. A hospital was supposed to restore and protect life whereas this room seemed to suck it out of him.

There was one thing that stood out in the infirmary. It was as white as everything surrounding it but it drew Harry's attention and made his stomach twist and turn. Nearly all the beds in the hospital wing were empty at the moment. Krum and Fleur had been in here when he arrived; they had quickly left when they had seen him. It didn't seem unlikely that they had brought their own healers from their respective school with them, or it could have been the fact that they wanted to avoid him. He certainly wouldn't hold that against them.

It had been more amusing to see Professor Moody wake up, quickly getting up, securing his leg in place and marching out of the hospital before anyone could stop him. Harry didn't blame him ether, if he'd been locked up for the better part of a year, he'd probably want to go somewhere more private, and secure. Judging from the highly suspicious looks Moody gave everyone and everything it was quite easy to see how much the man need to feel secure.

Shaking his head, Harry reminded himself that there was no Professor Moody, the man that had marched out of here like death was snapping at his heals had never been a Professor. No, it was his impostor that had been responsible for everything and thoughts of the traitor only made him remember why he was here and the nights events.

The two beds that were filled were his own, his curtain pulled three quarters of the way around, both to give him privacy and to prevent him from looking at the proverbial elephant in the room.

The second occupied bed.

It was as white as everything else, the only difference between that bed and Harry's was the curtain that was pulled all the way around shielding the person that la beyond them from prying eyes.

Unlike Harry that person wouldn't wake in the morning, and within a few hours of that be complaining and moaning about leaving. He wouldn't see his friends, or laugh or love.

Cedric Diggory lay behind that curtain.

He wasn't the first victim of Voldemort, and neither will he be the last. But he was the first person Harry had seen die. He had seen suffering and death in his dreams but never had he witnessed anything of the magnitude of what he witnessed tonight.

For the first time ever it had struck Harry what death truly is.

Inevitable. Unavoidable.

Softly swinging his body round so his feet touched the floor, Harry stood, letting out a small hiss of pain caused by the toil that the evening had taken on his body and at the coldness of the tiles on his bear feet. Groping around the bedside table he eventually found his glasses and slipped them onto his nose. Looking down at himself he saw the thin hospital gown he wore, stopping at his knee. He took notice of his thin arms and legs and lack of any real muscle. Small scratches and deep purple burses covered over half of his exposed flesh. Scars from previous adventures crisscrossing his flesh.

He let out a snort at the thought of his _adventures_. Once upon a time it seemed like a game to him. They ruined Voldemort plans once a year and life would be easy. Not even seeing Ginny Weasley's brush with death in his second year had been enough for him to see the seriousness of the situations he got himself into.

He had been a fool.

Sparing one last, self-pity filled look at his skinny form he headed towards the true Hogwarts champion.

Softly, he padded across the floor towards the other occupied bed. Using the puddles of moonlight that shone through the windows as his only light. It was not a quick journey but eventual he reached the curtain, using one hand to softly grip the thick material he slowly wheeled a gap big enough for him to slip though.

Although there was no reason for Madame Pomfrey to be up and patrolling, it was probably for the best that he didn't get caught out of bed. Especially as he was out of bed to look at a recently deceased student.

Behind the curtain stood the bed. Lying on that was clearly Cedric, covered by a thin sheet. With shaking hands Harry slowly drew the sheet back and gazed upon his fellow champion. For two minutes Harry just looked, eyes sliding across the dead boys face in an attempt to memorize every detail.

"You were better, stronger and faster than me, and it all counted for nothing" said Harry, as a single tear rolled down his face. "You did nothing wrong, you were just there. I'm so sorry Cedric." Small shakes were now wracking Harry's body as quiet sobs took over.

In many ways Cedric was everything Harry was not. Fit and strong, top of most of his classes, Cedric always walked around with a quiet confidence, something that Harry knew he lacked. Although envious all of those attributes once upon a time, none of it seemed to matter now. When it came down to it, even Cedric's best qualities did little to help time. If Cedric could be killed by Wormtail of all people then Harry didn't have a chance against any of the Death Eaters.

Harry had to admit that he didn't know how the Death Eaters were structured, and who held the most power, both magically and in terms of position, but he was pretty confident that Wormtail was neither universally feared, or liked.

Voldemort would never give him rest; he would be hunted until he lay broken and bleeding.

He glanced once more at Cedric before pulling the sheet back over him, with a muttered, 'goodbye'. Harry stepped back out of the privacy curtain and started walking towards the largest window in the infirmary.

Looking out over Hogwarts grounds Harry Potter made a declaration to himself. He would fight, and he would probably die. But he would never stop, never rest and never give up. He certainly hadn't started this war, and he held no illusions of him finishing it, but for every second Harry stayed alive and stayed defiant, was a second Voldemort despised. And that suited Harry just fine.

He wasn't doing this for Cedric, or his friends or his parents. He was doing this for himself. It was time to step up.

Glancing up at the full moon, heart full of hatred towards Voldemort, towards the world that bore him and even towards Cedric, for not being quicker or smarter he muttered his vow, "Until the end Voldemort, until the end."

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In several places around Britain people were getting a call to arms, a message whispered on the winds for those willing to listen.

A senior Auror sat at his desk deep within in the ministry, trying to concentrate on his work. The whole building was a buzz; all the Aurors had been called to the department making it too crowded and too loud for his tastes. Some Aurors had been pulled from the clutches of sleep; other had been out doing assignments across Britain, regardless they all stood together now. As information slowly leaked around the Auror offices tales were passed between desks for the cause of this unusual gathering. Half of the Auror corps had been mobilized several hours before when two wizards has been discovered missing from Hogwarts, only to be told to return back to the ministry and wait.

"Shacklebolt!"

Hearing the voice of his superior Kingsley Shacklebolt rose from his desk, brown eyes seeking out the man who had called. Within a minute a greying Auror in the customary crimson robes stood before him.

"What can I do for you Nathan?" enquired Shacklebolt.

Nathan Cannon was almost the polar opposite to Shacklebolt. Although their uniforms where the same, Nathan's hung off him, and looked it had just been picked up off the floor. The man was a veteran of the first war again Voldemort and it showed in the man's permanently slummed shoulders, his hard attitude and mostly in his haunted eyes. Whilst it could be argued Nathan was past his prime, Shacklebolt was clearly just entering his. His broad shoulders and dark skin setting him apart from the short, pale figure of his superior. The only indications of their relative positions were the gold stars pinned to the collars of their robes. Kingsley has two, brightly shining stars, whilst Nathan had three, that had dulled with age and looked as weathered as the man that wore them.

"I want you to hand pick ten men, and get them down to the atrium, the minister has called an emergency press conference and wants us there for crowd control" said Cannon.

No more explanation were needed, no opinions expressed. Nathan Cannon was a man that worked purely on orders. The other Aurors had a habit of mocking him for it behind his back, they just assumed he was too weathered and worn to have his own anymore. That never bothered Kingsley though; he could appreciate a man who dealt in only orders and absolutes.

"Of course sir, I'll get on it straight away" Shacklebolt's tone was brisk and sharp, not one to waste time when there was a job to be done.

His superior nodded and walked back into the crowd of Aurors that were loitering around, waiting for orders or an explanation as to why they were all there.

Turning back to his desk in order to place the paperwork he'd been working on back in a secure draw, Kingsley noticed something amiss. It was not hard, his desk was the tidiest in the office, a fact he was quietly proud off, and right in the middle of his immaculate desk lay a sealed envelope. There was no writing on it to indicate who had left it there or whom it was for.

Drawing his wand, tapping on the envelope with a muttered, _"Specialis Revelio" _Kingsley waited with baited breath to see if it was cursed or charmed, when nothing happened, Kingsley's forehead fell into a frown. Flicking his wand the envelope flipped allowing him to see the back. It was then that he understood.

Sealing the envelope was a blob of red wax, imprinted with the image of a rising Phoenix.

**ˆ˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜ˆ**

Remus Lupin sat in despair. The room he was currently sat in looked as if it had been attacked by a savage beast, or a pack of them for matter. Chairs were broken, bits of their stuffing coating various things across the room. Painting and portraits hung off the wall, a few had suffered by having their canvas ripped in two. Their occupants have fled, fearing for their lives.

The room smelt strongly of smoke and alcohol. Large discolored circles marked the carpet and the walls from were bottles had been thrown and smashed, the contents now dripping down the walls and into the carpet.

A smoky haze floated above the other occupant of the room, precariously balanced on a pile of broken furniture.

"It almost looks as if I'd been set lose in here on the wrong day of the month. You should try and hold your temper…" Remus said, his voice betraying how exhausted his was.

"Be quiet Mooney. I couldn't bare the thought of losing him, not again. I failed once, I refuse to do it again" responded Sirius Black. His voice sounding broken and frayed.

Watching Sirius swill his whiskey around what was quite possible the only glass in the room that hadn't be broken set Remus thinking.

They have both received the news that Harry had gone missing during the tournament. Sirius of course had wanted to rush straight to Hogwarts. He'd either forgotten he was a wanted felony, or simply didn't care, and once he'd decided that Hogwarts was his destination it had taken all of Lupin's strength and persuasive skill to keep Sirius where he was. Unwilling to attack Lupin, Sirius had decided to take out his frustrations on the room instead, destroying it in the process.

His temper was always close to the surface after his long stay in Azkaban.

"He'll be fine Sirius, you got the message. He's back at Hogwarts, a bit rough around the edges and shook up but fine nonetheless. I personally suggest you go shower and get some rest before tomorrow. If Dumbledore allows us to visit Harry, I'd suggest not going to see him in your current state, looking and smelling like you've lived in an alley for the past few years" said Lupin, his tone rebuking but with a smile on his lips.

Sirius sighed, looking around at the destruction he caused, before letting out a bark of a laugh, "Ha! This place looks better than ever! You're right I should clean myself up; show my godson that I can look like something other than a serial killer! What you say Mooney, one last drink?"

These changes of mood were a normal occurrence. One minute Sirius would be depressed, and then next his bad mood would evaporate and it was like the past 20 years hadn't happened.

"I think…" started to reply Remus until an envelope burst from the open fireplace in the room and hit him square in the face, landing at his feet.

Ignoring Sirius's yelp of surprise, that soon turned into soft chuckles at his expense, Remus stood and looked down at the envelope, his breath catching in his throat.

"Sirius, you need to come here and see this…" said Lupin, eyes never leaving the envelope. Hearing a sign that notified him that Sirius had dragged himself off his makeshift chair, he glanced at his friend who was now looking at the envelope with wide eyes.

"Shit…" muttered Sirius. That one word summing up what both occupants' of the room felt.

"Forget the drink Sirius, go shower quickly. We have places to be."

Receiving a nod from Sirius, who turned, placed his drink down and left the room. Remus was quick to snatch the drink back up, reaching down to pick up the envelope with his free hand.

With shaking hand he downed the rest of the drink, ignoring the burring at the back of his throat, dropping the empty glass on the floor he broke the red wax seal that could only mean one thing.


End file.
